


Ridiculus

by tohzier



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, M/M, Magic, Multi, Possible sequel, author unsure of the houses they sorted characters into but it is Too Late, fifth year centric, general wizarding buffoonery, graphic depictions of broken bones, graphic depictions of vommitting, oneshot turned longfic, poorly performed magic, quidditch and whatnot, who knows if this will ever be finished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14499123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tohzier/pseuds/tohzier
Summary: Hogwarts has always been a home to escape to, for any misfit magical child unwanted by a world that chooses to reject the mystical and unseen. But when Hogwarts is plagued by a frightening bout of mysterious and sometimes fatal incidents, the once friendly halls become a hellscape of some of the students darkest fears. A lucky few will band together to attempt to beat the devil, but time will only tell if it's been truly destroyed...





	1. Occulous Repairo (prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> hello all! welcome to the party. the synopsis is in reference to the main plot of this fic, but the chapter you're about to read is a sort of one-shot fluff piece written for a fandom gift exchange that inspired me to continue on with this concept. the first bit is just some soft reddie shit, but the main plot is going to have quite a bit to it. there's a high likelihood this'll get scary, but only if i have the skill to actually write a suspenseful scene, we'll see. there will be a lot of pennywise elements to this but it won't be nearly as bad as cannon. so here's this mess, hope you all enjoy! come bother me on tumbr @tohzier and yell at me to write more of this if you want it!

“God- damn-  _ shit- _ ”

“Rich, calm down, jesus christ. You’re not gonna get it if you keep pressuring yourself. Relax.”

“I am fucking relaxed Eds, it’s just not  _ working- _ ”

“It’ll work if you stop clenching your fist, for starters.” Eddie sighed, reaching over and forcing Richie to loosen his grip on his wand. Richie tried not to notice how gentle Eddie’s guidance was, or his perfectly kept nails, or his soft- 

He tried not to notice.

“Now, when you say the incantation, let it flow instead of spitting it out. And maybe don’t say fuck so much.” Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him, which took him a second to catch as his gaze lingered on Eddie’s hands.

“Thanks,  _ professor _ , any other tips you got?” He said defensively. He knew Eddie was just trying to help him, but he couldn’t help his tone. He’d been trying his  _ accio _ charm for half an hour to no avail, and he was  _ pissed _ . Charms was his best course, and he’d never struggled with something so much in all his years of schooling. His pride was wounded, and he wasn’t prepared to receive advice.

Eddie blanched, before his expression turned sour. “Fine, be that way. I hope you fail your Runes test.” Eddie grumbled, before casting a perfect Summoning spell on Richie’s Runes book. It sailed so close to Richie’s face he thought it might smack his glasses clean off, but thankfully it only knocked them askew. 

“Bitch.” Richie glared at him, reaching up to fix his spectacles. Eddie only responded with a flat glare and a wordless repetition of the charm, causing Richie’s glasses to soar off his face and into Eddie’s waiting hand.

“Hey, give those back!” Richie blinked against the sudden blurriness and wildly reached out for Eddie’s hands. Eddie snorted and held the glasses out of Richie’s reach.

“Not until you stop being an asshole. I’m just trying to help you.”

“I’m sorry, okay, Jesus-”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m sorry, princess-”

“Not in the fucking voice Rich, and don’t call me princess-” 

“Look, I’m sorry, seriously, Eds.” Richie’s hands dropped to his lap as he looked dejectedly down at them. “I’m just… really frustrated with myself.”

“I know.” Suddenly his glasses were being placed gingerly across the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna get it, okay?” Eddie gave him a tender, serious look. “Don’t knock me for helping you.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for your advice.” 

“What, ya gonna braid his hair?” Bev’s voice cut through their reverie, causing Eddie to realize that the hands he’d just used to replace Richie’s glaces were practically tangled in the other boy’s hair. He pulled them back to his lap, his face flushing. Bev laughed at the action. 

“You know you’ve got first dibs on these curls, love.” Richie threw over his shoulder at her with a smirk. 

“Class!” Their proffessor rapped his wand on the podium in front of him, shooting a glare at Richie, who was his frequent Problem Student. Most teachers tended to assume that if someone was talking out of turn in class, it was Richie. They tended to be right. “Focus up; we’re shifting to our second spell of the day.”

“Goodie me.” Richie mumbled under his breath, sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed. He was still chuffed about the last spell; he didn’t want another one to muck up.

“I think you’ll find this one quite useful, Mr. Tozier.” His teacher gave him a hard look. “Turn to page twenty-seven. Let’s work on  _ occulous reparo _ .” 

Eddie did his best to hide a laugh as Richie flipped open his book to the page of the glasses-repairing spell. Richie’s ears went red as many of his other classmates began to laugh too, realizing the diss from their teacher. This redness stayed on his ears throughout the duration of the lesson, hiding his face in shame as their professor went through the steps. When they were left to attempt the spell on their own, however, his mood was quick to change.

“Having some trouble there, Eds?” Richie found himself smirking over at a frustrated Eddie, who had failed to fix the crack in the pair of practice readers they had been provided for the twentieth time.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t say fuck so much.”

Richie looked at Eddie with his biggest shit eating grin. He also thanked his stars Eddie wasn’t a dementor; otherwise he’d be getting his soul sucked by now.

_ It’d be worth it for the kiss, though. _

Richie pushed the thought away immediately. 

“I’m gonna-” Eddie’s face of rage faltered, changing to confusion. “I’m- I’m too flustered to come up with a threat right now, but just know you’re gonna regret that comment later.”

“I’m quakin’ in my boots!”

“Beep beep.” Eddie huffed, turning back to his spectacles. Richie watched him attempt the spell a few times before Eddie’s cheeks began to tinge pink. “Are you staring for a reason, trashmouth?”

Richie faltered. “Uh- no. No, nothing.” He pushed his curls back nervously, before turning to his practice glasses and performing the spell perfectly on the first try, as per his usual. He sighed, feeling relief that his mojo was back. Eddie eyed his glasses with jealousy before dejectedly attempting the spell one more time.

“Here-” Richie said after a pause, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s wand hand. “Try gripping it like this.” He helped Eddie adjust his hold on the wand. “And uh… try flicking with a little bit more force.” Richie chanced a glance at the smaller boy’s face; he was looking at their tangled hands with his mouth slightly agape, his expression strange. Richie swallowed and let go with hesitation. 

He also tried not to notice the snikers of Bill and Bev, the next table over.

Well, he  _ tried _ to. 

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

“Jesus Billiam, and you shit on me for overeating.” 

“Sh-shut up Tozier. I e-e-eat a lot at m-meals, sure, b-but you eat like a c-cow. All d-d-damn day.”

“Touche.” Richie shrugged, taking a massive bite out of his sandwich as he reached across Bev’s plate for another.

“You know you could just ask me to pass you one.” She griped.

“It’s my only stretch for the day, just let me have it.” Richie said around a mouthful of food. 

“Sexy.” Bev scrunched her nose and gave him a disgusted look. He smiled wide, revealing bread-and-meat filled teeth. She lightly punched his shoulder. “Ugh, that’s fucking nasty. You know that may work on Eddie but it’s not gonna charm me.” 

Richie furrowed his brow, swallowing his food. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse you! I saw you two in Charms. The tension was practically rolling off of you guys in waves.”

“What! There was no- there wasn’t tension, Bev, we were just-”

“Just doing what you always do, tragically pining over each other with no hope of requisition.” Bev sighed dramatically. “It’s saddening, really.”

Richie glared at her through squinted eyes and coke-bottle glasses. “I do not pine.”

“Yes you do.” Bill said nonchalantly through a mouthful of chicken.

Richie huffed, turning back to his plate. “I do not pine!” His following dramatic gesture was cut short by a flying piece of treacle, which hit him squarely in the forehead. He flinched, shocked by the contact, then glanced around the Great Hall to see where the projectile originated from. Near the end of their table, a certain Mr. Bowers and his cronies were sniggering. Richie went red and turned back to his friends. 

“Shit Rich, you okay?” Bev asked in a concerned tone as Richie pulled off his glasses to inspect them for debris.

“‘M fine.” He griped. “It’s assholes like Bowers that give our house such a bad name. I don’t want people to think of me in the same class as that.” He gestured towards Bowers, who was currently trying (and hilariously failing) to change his cider into rum.

“T-technically you’re not.” Bill said. “He is a c-couple classes ab-bove us.”

Richie gave him a flat look. “He’s still a Slytherin.” 

“You’re twice the Slytherin he’ll ever be.” Bev said with a wink.

Bill and Richie both smiled at her. “You’re darn right I am.” Richie beamed, hitching up his robes on his shoulders. 

That time Richie didn’t notice Eddie’s small face, peeking over Mike’s shoulder across the way at the Hufflepuff table, a small blush on his cheeks as he watched Richie preen.

Ritchie didn’t notice, but Eddie did.

 

_________________________________________________________________________________

 

“C’mon Eddie, I thought you’d done this before.” Ben was still laughing, though on his behalf he was making at least some semblance of an attempt at disguising it. Richie did nothing to hide his guffaws as he watched Eddie try to right himself.

“Yeah, once! That doesn’t mean I’m a fucking pro at it!” 

“Language, Mr. Kaspbrak. One point from Hufflepuff.” Their professor uttered boredly as she passed them, on her way to assist another student.

“Sorry Proffessor.” Eddie grumbled from his current position, which happened to be hanging completely upside down from a broom that was floating about six feet off the ground. The only thing keeping him from meeting it was his death grip with all of his limbs around the handle.

“You look like a koala!” Richie cried through his laughter, complete with actual tears.

“A very unhappy one.” Ben added lightly, sending Richie into another peal of laughter that caused him to nearly fall over.

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” Eddie screeched down at them, desperately making an attempt to flip over to the topside of his broom.

“Would you like some help?” Ben asked cautiously.

“No, Benjamin, I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.” Eddie snapped, carefully shimmying with his feet.

“Oh my God, where’s Bill, I’ve gotta get a picture of this-” Richie finally managed when he regained control of his laughter.

“YOU WILL NOT.” Eddie called down, taking a second too long to glare down at Richie. His loss of focus caused a loss of footing, and before he knew it he was dangling from the end of his broom, his grip reduced to his bare hands around where the base met the bristles. He let out a shriek as he fumbled; he was still a good couple of feet from the ground.

And rising.

“Ben- Ben! BEN IT’S GOING UP WHAT DO I DO-”

“Let go of it, Eddie!” Ben watched in shock as Eddie’s broom steadily began to climb. Richie instantly ceased his giggling, his expression turning serious.

“WHY IS IT DOING THIS BEN HELP-”

“Eddie you have to let go! It won’t stop until you stop touching it!” Ben called up to him, looking around for their professor.

“I can’t! I can’t, I’m too high!”

“Eddie just let go, I’ll catch you!” Richie yelled, moving to stand underneath the floating boy.

“I can’t! I could crush you!” He looked pleadingly up at the broom, but for all he was concerned, it was on a path of its own, its mind unknowable to him. He could almost feel the rate of his ascent increasing along with his rapid heartbeat.

Mike came jogging across the pitch, their proffessor in tow.

“Dear God, what’s going on with him?” Mike asked incredulously, craning his neck to squint up at Eddie against the glaring sun. 

“His broom’s being fussy.” Ben sighed. “He won’t let go.”

“That’s the only way you’re gonna get down!” Mike yelled up to the frightened boy.

“That’s what I told him.” Ben said.

“Eds, c’mon, I said I’d catch you!” Richie yelled again, trying to persuade him with a smile. He was only met with a squeak as the broom above them pitched wildly, causing Eddie to loosen his grip. He righted himself, but his hold was only tenuous.

“Eddie, come on, you have to let go!” Mike pressed, pulling his yellow striped scarf and rolling up his sleeves. He moved to stand next to Richie.

“I CAN’T!” 

“Rich and I will catch you, if you don’t let go now it’s gonna pitch you!”

“I’M TOO HIGH UP!”

“Well it’s not gonna come back down when you’re worked up like that!” Ben huffed, growing frustrated with Eddie’s stubbornness. Bill and Bev finally made their way to the front of the small crowd of students that had gathered to spectate, their faces painted with worry.

“Mr. Kaspbrak, you need to listen to Mr. Hanlon. It’s the only way we’re going to get you down.” Their proffessor said calmly from her place next to Ben. “Mr. Hanscom, will you go get the nurse’s team, please. I suspect he’ll have a rough fall from this height.” She said quietly to Ben. He nodded and pushed through the crowd, headed back towards the castle.

“Eddie, please, come down.” Richie pleaded, his fear growing more and more palpable. Richie had already hit a good five-eleven in height, and by his measurement he thought it likely he could fit another one of himself between him and Eddie. The turf on the pitch was meant to soften the blow from a fall, and many a student had been pitched off of brooms and onto the grass from greater heights before. But Eddie had never been more than Richie’s height off of the ground before, and this was only because of all the times the trashmouth himself had hoisted Eddie over his shoulder for a joke. It was no secret to anyone that Eddie was fragile, either; the boy was on more magical medicine than Richie’d ever heard of, and spent at least a quarter of his time in the hospital wing for various injuries over their five years at Hogwarts so far. This fall was shaping up to be a rough one indeed, and growing prospectively worse by the second. 

Eddie’s wild eyes caught Richie’s as he looked down in panic. Richie responded with raised eyebrows and a nod, gently encouraging Eddie down. Eddie’s eyes then caught Mike’s, who’s arms were out and ready to catch Eddie on his way down. Richie mimicked his position, his feet shoulder-width apart. They both looked to Eddie again, but instead of his agreement of readiness, they were met with fearful eyes that soon disappeared into the blur of a shaking head. 

“No! No, I can’t do it!” Eddie was doing a fairly good job of hiding it, but Richie could tell the small boy was damn near close to tears as he clung desperately to the end of the broomstick.

“Yes, you can, Ed-” 

Mike’s words were lost as the broom gave another violent jerk, and Eddie was yanked dangerously to the left. The movement caught him offguard, and his threadbare grip was rendered moot at the wood slipped from beneath his hands. Richie saw a wild flailing of limbs eclipse the sun in his gaze, and heard a cry of fear the likes of which he’d never heard from his closest friend. 

And then Eddie was falling.

To him, it wasn’t like he’d heard described from Ben about his Quidditch games or how he’d seen it in the movies. There was no slow-motion rendering, no recollection of his life in a succinct flash, no endless churning through open air. Maybe it was because the fall wasn’t from nearly as high as Ben had come down from before, or because he was so unused to the feeling, but instead of a weightless, floating, gradual fall, it happened and was over faster than anything he’d ever experience. He was in the air, and then he wasn’t. Like that. Like lightning.

For Richie, however, there was slow-motion. Eddie’s broom had positioned him directly above Richie’s head, instead of neatly poised above he and Mike’s waiting arms. Neither of them had enough time to adjust their positions in reality, but to Richie it seemed as though he’d had time enough to move out of the way. He watched, as if through lens, as his best friend plummeted through the air, expression aghast and limbs askew, directly towards his face.

_ Crunch. _

There was an audible gasp from the spectating students. 

“Oh fuck…”

A groan from Eddie.

“I second that.”

Richie’s gruff reply.

“Guys?”

Then Mike was above them, their proffessor and Bill, even Beverly’s curl-framed face all swimming through Richie’s vision. After a couple of blinks they came sharper into focus; after a couple more it became apparent that his glasses had an exceptionally gnarly fracture in them. 

“Did I catch him?” Richie mumbled up at them through a crooked smile. He felt a hot, wet splotch forming on his upper lip.

“Yeah, with your f-face.”

“Enough, Mr. Denbrough, make space.” Bill’s and Beverly’s faces disappeared. “Mr. Kaspbrak, can you hear me?”

Something stirred on top of Richie’s chest. He looked down the best he could, his head not wanting to bear much weight. 

His heart couldn’t really bear the sight of it, either.

A quick tally told him all limbs were accounted for; four for him, four for Eddie, all easily visible. His were thankfully laid out the way they were supposed to be. He had been knocked flat, but thankfully nothing had folded or crumpled. His ass hurt from where it hit the ground, and he was fairly certain the wetness on his face was from a bloody nose. By his worst estimate he had a mild concussion, at his best a few bruises. Definitively he was okay. But the weight on top of him was another story.

Eddie had all four of his limbs alright, but as Richie realized with growing horror, one of them was very nearly facing the wrong way.

Eddie slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Richie’s over Eddie’s twisted and mangled arm between them. His gaze quickly left the other boys and settled on what hardly resembled his right arm. Richie watched as the color drained instantly from his face. He’d never seen Eddie look so upset before.

“Mr. Kaspbrak-” Their teacher repeated, before Eddie let out a moan.

“Oh- oh god…” He wretched, making Richie genuienly worried the smaller boy would throw up on him.

Mike’s hands were suddenly on Eddie’s shoulders, guiding him up enough to get Richie out from underneath him. They got Eddie back into a sitting position, and Richie able to kneel in front of him.

“Mr. Hanlon, please escort Mr. Kaspbrak to the infirmary. Mr Hanscom should intercept you on the way with aid. Mr. Denbrough, please accompany Mr. Tozier.”

“I don’t need attention, I’m okay.” Richie said quickly, eyes not leaving Eddie’s face. He could already see a bruise forming high on Eddie’s cheekbone. His face must have been what collided with Richie’s nose. “I’ll help take Eddie up.”

“Alright, alright, disperse then.” The proffessor said in a huff to the surrounding crowd of students. Most of them departed, but Bill and Bev stayed on, observing worriedly. They had to be dissmissed again at the threat of house point deduction, which even then barely worked. All that got them to leave was a non-verbal agreement between the four of them that Eddie would be okay in the hands of Mike and Richie.

“C’mon daredevil, lets go get you cleaned up.” Richie muttered quietly in Eddie’s ear as he and Mike hoisted Eddie up from the ground. 

“Oh- oh god I’m gonna hurl.” Eddie said feebly, his steps uneven and wobbly.

“Be sick to the left, then, can’t have you staining my fresh laundry now.” He joked, though it sounded nervous even to his own ears. He felt nearly as shaky as the smaller boy, his thoughts swimming with worry. He was concerned Eddie could pass out before they got him up to the infirmary.

“You got him, Rich?” Mike said calmly.

“Yeah.” Richie said, slinging Eddie’s unbroken arm over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna run ahead and see if they’ve got a stretcher.”

“Good on, mate.” Richie nodded at him as he turned and sprinted in the direction of the school. “Okay, Eds, just you and me now. I need you to do your best to stay upright, okay? Don’t worry about going too fast or anything, just stayin’ afloat, okay?”

“M sorry…” Came Eddie’s slurred response. His head was hanging, and Richie could feel his skin growing clammy from the hand he had clasped in his. The smaller boy was too white, and too wobbly.

“Nothing to be sorry for Spaghetti.” He had to bend over quite a bit to accomadate their height difference, and the awkward position was starting to belabour him. “Not your fault you got tossed around by a stick.”

“Shoulda.. Tried harder…”

“Shoulda let go sooner is what you shoulda. You really scared me there, love.”

Both of them pretended not to notice the pet name.

They did.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t ‘sorry’. Just don’t do it again.”

Part of Richie hoped Eddie didn’t notice the gentle way he was stroking his thumb across the hand he had in his, his small attempt at comforting the immense pain he knew the other boy must be in. His small attempt at comforting himself that Eddie would be okay.

The other part of Richie really, really hoped he did.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“I mean Christ Staniel, it was practically bacwards.” Richie whispered hurriedly, pushing his newly fractured glasses up the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time. He’d broken into quite a sweat hauling Eddie across the grounds, and his glasses now refused to stay on a face slick with sweat. 

“I’m only sad I missed it.” Stan deadpanned, his gaze never leaving his parchment. “I’ve always wanted to see Eddie hit you in the face.”

“WIth his whole body?” Richie whisper-yelled incredulously. Their Runes professor shot them a dirty look over his shoulder before continuing. Stan waited for the teacher to turn away before speaking again.

“Of course not.” Stan gave Richie The Look; the one that told him Stan was switching out of sarcasm. “They said he’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah, the nurse already has him set.”

“Fuck, you watched that?”

“They had me do it. Eddie was screaming at everyone; he didn’t want them to touch him at all.”

“Jesus.” Stan breathed, chancing another glance at the professor. They remained undetected. “I’m just glad you’re both okay...ish. You could’ve been a lot worse off.”

“Me too.” Richie glanced guiltily down at his arms. His right was slightly bruised and sore from where Eddie’s weight had landed on it, and he new his nose was quite the sight. “I’m just so fucking pissed he got hurt instead of me.”

Stan gave him a knowing look.

“Finally.”

Richie looked up at him, eyebrows knitted.

“Come again for big fudge?”

Stan cocked an eyebrow. “Just… finally.”

“Mr. Uris!” Their teacher suddenly interrupted, causing the two of them to jump slightly. “Something to share with the class?”

“No, sir.” Stan mumbled.

“Then can you at least share with me what…” He paused as he drew a series of symbols on the board. “...This means?” 

Stan took a moment to squint at the figures. He could only state with confidence about half.

“I cannot, sir.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when my star student couldn’t answer a simple question. Five points from Ravenclaw. You and mister Tozier here better focus up or I might just deduct from Slytherin as well.”

Richie and Stan gave him twin death glares as he turned back to the board.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“Finally what?”

Stanley nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus FUCK, Richie.”

“Finally what?”

“Were you fucking hiding behind that suit of armor waiting for me?”

“Only for like an hour, anyways finally what?”

“You’re hyperfixating again.” Stan muttered bitterly as he straightened his tie (and attempted to quell his fluttering heart rate).

“ADHD, sue me. Finally what?”

“Christ Rich, let it go.” Stan hitched his bookbag strap further up his shoulder, checking his special wand pocket to ensure the instrument was still safely tucked in after his scare.

“Well tell me what the fuck you meant then!” Richie flapped his arms frustratedly, his loosely worn green striped tie following suit.

“I have to meet Bill for our study session-”

“You’re not going anywhere, Stan-The-Man,” Richie pulled his wand from his back pocket (where he foolishly kept it, in Stan’s opinion) and dramatically jumped into a dueling stance. “Before goin’ through me.”

“I’m not fighting you over it, asshole-”

“Then tell meeeeeee.” Richie whined, dropping his shoulders and hands flamboyantly. A group of second year girls scurrying past watched him in confusion.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Stan snorted, watching as Richie gestured crudely at the girls.

“Try me.” Richie folded his arms.

Stan mirriored his position. 

“I only meant your little pity party there in Runes was an admission. One I’ve been waiting on. Hence, finally.”

Richie drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Admission of what? That I felt bad? That’s no secrect, wouldn’t you-”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m so confused.”

“Of course you are. You haven’t had pre-dinner yet.”

“Which I’m skipping right now to interrogate you, thank you very much.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry my minding of my own business between classes has disrupted your theivery of the kitchens.”

“Okay first of all, it’s not theivery if the house elves have given up on fighting me over it. Secondly, what the fuck are you talking about.”

Richie was using his pleading voice, the one that got Stan every time.

They locked eyes in a staredown.

Stan lost.

“You’re in love with Eddie.”

“I am?”

Stan blanched. “Yes, Richie.”

“And why is this news to me? Shouldn’t this be something I’m aware of-?” Richie trailed off.

“Yeah, it fucking should.” Stan put his face in his hand. “Look, Richie, seriously, you need to take some time to address your feelings. What you said in class? About feeling guilty? That was some cheesy shit. I’m talking grade-a Debbie Macomber novel. Maybe you should sit with that for a bit.”

Richie gave him a blank look.

“You think I have feelings for Eddie.”

“I  _ know _ you do.”

“Okay, and how do I not know this?”

“Because you’re blind as a bat.”

Richie crossed his eyes to look at the break in his thick lenses. “Touche.” He looked back at Stan, and paused.

“I don’t have feelings for Eddie.”

“Really? Prove it.”

“Prove it? How?!”  

“Get through one whole day without telling me how cute his hair is.”

“Well that’s impossible Staniel, you know I love his-”

Richie suddenly dropped the end of his sentence.

“Fuck.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow.

“I have feelings for Eddie.”

Stan nodded, much like a babysitter to a three year old who’d finally gotten the hint.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“Mr. Kaspbrak, you have a visitor.” Eddie heard the nurse say quietly through the drapes thrown round his hospital bed. 

“I’m not-” He croaked, before being cut off.

“Eds, it’s me.” 

The curtains slowly pulled back to reveal a pale and drawn looking Eddie, his right arm currently obscured from view. 

“Hi, Rich.”

He nodded at the nurse, who turned and left. Eddie stepped back to let Richie into the enclosed space, swinging the curtains closed behind them. Eddie sat gingerly on the bed, cradling his arm close to his chest. It was bound in bandages and hung in a white sling, which had been admonished with a scrawling rendition of the word “loser” in all capital letters. 

Richie had spent the last god-knows-how-many minutes on his way to the hospital wing (which, despite his multitude of trips to meet Eddie there, he still never seemed to find in a reasonable amount of time) mulling over in his head what the fuck he should say. He’d start by voicing his concern, follow it up with a joke that will do nothing to dispell either of their discomfort, maybe throw in a couple of anecdotes about the rest of his classes with Stan for extra stalling time, but then inevitably reach the point where he’d spill his guts because Lord (and every one of his friends, for that matter) knew he couldn’t keep a thought in once he’d had it, and say the damned words that could very well cost him one of his closest friends. _ Or perhaps bring them much, much closer _ , a hopeful voice had quietly persisted in his head, though he tried not to give it much notice.

He did.

He also very, very much noticed the damn sling.

“The fuck is that?” He asked, perplexed, drawing his brows together as he gestured at the word.

Eddie flushed, looking down at his feet. “Fucking Greta is the nurses aid today. She was supposed to just change my bandages and leave, but… We started talking and she asked if she could sign it and I said yes and... “ Eddie took a breath, exhaling deeply. “It’s charmed on there, I’ve spent the last hour trying to get it off.”

“That fucking bitch…” Richie muttered, sitting down next to Eddie.

“It’s okay.” Eddie looked smaller than Richie had seen in a long time. “It’s what I am.”

“Darn right you are!” Richie said indignantly, clapping Eddie gently on the back. “King of the losers.”

“That’s actually Bill, but thanks.” Eddie gave a small laugh, relaxing into Richie’s touch. He left his hand on Eddie’s back.

“Whatever. Big Bill can step down for a bit. You deserve the crown for getting through today.” Richie smiled, lightly beginning to massage the smaller boy’s spine. 

“It certainly has been one, hasn’t it.” 

The two spent a moment sat in comfortable silence, Richie slowly working out a knot in the center of Eddie’s back. The confort soon turned charged however, as both boys sucked in a breath to speak.

“Eds-”

“Rich- Oh, sorry, you go first.”

“No, no, you go.” Richie shook his head fervently, his heart rate jumping.

“I just- I’m sorry. I’m really embarrassed. I should have listened when you guys told me to let go. I made us all look like dumbasses, me falling on you like that.” Richie quirked an eyebrow, nearly letting out a laugh. “I’m also sorry for falling on you.”

Richie did laugh at that. “And I’m sorry for not scooting to the left. The impact really hurt my ass, I’ll have you know.” 

Eddie snorted. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“Doc says I can’t sit for a week.”

“You’re sitting right now, asshole.”

“Yeah, and it’s hurting my asshole, so maybe think about that before you judge me.”

Eddie gave a real laugh then, his face crinkling up happily, his freckles stretched across his nose in a smattering of stardust.

Richie fucking noticed.

“Eddie.”

Eddie looked up at Richie, surprised by the serious tone in his voice.

“Yeah..?” 

“I- I think I like you.”

Eddie gave him a flat look. “Well, I would sure hope you do. We’ve only been friends for years.”

“No, Eds, I-  _ like  _ you. As in- I’d like to kiss you.”

Eddie’s face froze. “Oh.” His brain caught up with the moment. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Can I?” Richie’s voice was barely a whisper. “Kiss you, I mean.”

Eddie just stared blankly at him, all concious thought flying right out of his mind. 

“Richie-”

“Shit.” Suddenly Richie’s hands were scraping over his face. “That was way too forward, fuck, I’m sorry-”

“No, no Richie, you’re fine.” Eddie laughed nervously. “I just.. Wasn’t preparred for that is all.”

Richie’s face burned behind his hands.

“I would like that.”

Richie peeked through new cracks between his fingers.

“You would?”

Eddie smiled and nodded sheepishly.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Richie dropped his hands in awe, leaning towards his friend.

“I just-” Richie nearly groaned in frustration as he was stopped short. “..don’t see how you would wanna kiss a loser.” Eddie gestured at the broken arm tucked between them. If Richie was suddenly, magically doing everything Eddie wanted, he might as well charm him into a little removal spell.

What could he say? He knew how to play Richie like a fiddle.

Contrary to Eddie’s, however, Richie was struck with his own idea.

Whipping his wand out of his back pocket, he sat cross-legged on the bed facing Eddie, his concentration face on. Eddie raised a brow but followed suit, mirroring his position.

“You still keep your wand in your back pocket?” Eddie gave him a disgusted look. “That’s so fucking dangerous, Richie-”

“Shut up.” Richie mumbled, beginning to mutter an incantation under his breath.

“The fuck are you-”

“Shut  _ up _ .” He resumed his spell, concentrating sharply as he drew a concise “v” through the air.

“Rich-”

“There.” Richie straightened up, tucking his wand back into the pocket, warning (as usual) unheeded. He smiled at his work, satisfied.

“What’d you-” Eddie’s words left him as he looked at the sling. Shining brightly over the “s” was a red letter “v”, transforming the insult into a title (he was certainly not over-proud to wear, no sir) on his arm, a very unexpected response.

“That better?” Richie was smiling at him, his usual, every day Richie smile, the one he had when he beat Mike at chess or when his Christmas gift to Bev went over well, or when he got a higher grade than Stan in a Runes essay. It was pride, for sure, but on Richie it was never cocky or obnoxious (though they all loved to tease him as though it was). It was always a smile of accomplishement, from a boy told frequently by the world that he was incapable. It was a smile of achievement, victory; it was infectious. It was one of Eddie’s favorite things about Richie.

His Richie, who he’d always known, always been aware of loving.

Eddie surged forward unexpectedly, sealing their lips in a clumsy kiss, one that seemed to sing through the air on the sigh of Stan’s  _ finally _ .

“Better.” Eddie mumbled as they shakily pulled apart, both breathless and dizzy. It took all of two miliseconds before Richie was cupping Eddie’s face in his hands, kissing with a power he didn’t know he had. Eddie did his best to reciporicate, tangling his left hand in Richie’s curls (another  _ finally _ drifitng through the cosmos) with his limp right arm still tucked between them. Their knees knocked together awkwardly, and the leaning over was putting painful pressure on Richie’s ribs (he realized dimly that they might not be in the best shape after the fall), but the kiss was soft and meaningful and  _ right _ .

Through the haze, Eddie noticed one more thing.

“Rich-” He pulled out of their kiss, nose hovering just in front of the others. “Your glasses are still  broken, the glass is scratching my face.” He giggled a bit, Richie pulling a face at being interrupted.

“Fuck, I don’t care-” He went to throw them off, pulling Eddie closer again.

“Let me fix them.” He laughed, grabbing them away from Richie and setting them on his leg. He leaned around to grab his wand from the bedside table.

Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow, remembering Eddie’s many failed attempts, and dreading just how long this would take.

Eddie balanced the glasses before taking his wand into his non-dominant hand (a recipe for disaster; Richie braced himself) and swished-

“ _ Occulous repairo. _ ”

A quiet woosh surrounded the glass as the fragments popped back into place and seamlessly wove back together. Both watched in awe as the whole set repaired itself. 

“Wow, Eds.” Richie whispered in quiet reverence as Eddie replaced his wand on the table, before turning around and attempting to deposit Richie’s glasses back on his face one-handedly.

“Whoa whoa whoa, let me help you with that, you already fucked up my ass, I don’t want you to do the same to my eye.” Richie quipped as he put the specs on himself.

Eddie half-heartedly rolled his eyes. “I spent all day learning that spell for you, and this is the thanks I get.”

Richie got that devilish twinkle in his eye.

“Oh I’ll give you a good thanks.” He smirked before scooping Eddie up into his arms, kissing wildly all over the other boys face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He exclaimed between Eddie’s laughs.

“You’re welcome, Rich.” Eddie managed through his giggles, as Richie’s kisses slowed. They shared a deep look before kissing again.

They stayed that way, laughing and kissing and joking and  _ being _ , and all afternoon Eddie couldn't stop thinking about the way Richie looked at him after he successfully completed the spell; that same, wonderful, _ proud-of-you _ smile that he’d always wanted to be on the receiving end of. 

He hadn’t noticed it all those times before, but thinking back on it as he did now, he realized just how many times he had.

He hadn’t noticed, not before, but this time, he finally did.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the main plot begins. warnings for quidditch typical violence and some classic stozier bantering.

“Aaaaaand coming down the center of the pitch is Huggins, Slytherin beater and bird-brained butthead, right on the Bludger’s tail as it threatens to dethrone the one and only-”

“Ten points, Tozier. Clean up the language.” 

“-Sorry, sorry professor, just callin’ em like I see ‘em! Ain’t that right folks?”

A cry emerged from the stands, particularly from the clusters of lowerclassmen who cheered along to Richie’s insults. Eddie could spot Stan’s expression of exasperation (and his shaking shoulders as he tried to hide his laugh) from their seats in the crowd, not far from the lower center on the right side. Just in front of the commentators box and much higher in the air stood the three hoops the Gryffindor team (and more specifically, one Ben Hanscom) had been charged with protecting. Eddie, Mike, and Beverly watched him avidly as he swerved to block the shot the Slytherin Chasers had set up (and more specifically, one Bill Denbrough). They cheered as Ben blocked the shot, and laughed at Bill’s expression of frustration as his team circled back around, the Quaffle having been dropped and picked up by the Gryffindor Chasers. 

“And once again golden-boy Ben Hanscom effortlessly blocks a shot by just-as-golden Bill Denbrough and his cronies. Looks like the score is still locked at forty to zero, and yes Mr. Belch, we here in the crowd are blaming you.” Richie said with a laugh as Belch flipped him off from his position hovering over the main field. The Bludger he had been charging after had altered its course, and made a beeline through the pitch, all the way over to the Slytherin goals where one Georgie Denbrough was hovering, scouring the pitch for a sign of his tiny, golden prize. Bill saw the Bludger on its path and called out to his brother, and Georgie, little, second year, playing-his-very-first-game-of-Quidditch Georgie, was not met with the sight he expected, but rather, a Bludger square to the face.

Another cry erupted from the audience, this one an audible hiss, those closest to Georgie on the other end of the field later claiming they could hear the smack as ball hit skin. Georgie was knocked clean off his broom, landing flat on his back. Thankfully he had been staying low to the ground, surveying the game from underneath (as per advice his and Bill’s uncle had given them; he had been a champion Slytherin seeker) so his fall was short and non-damaging.

His nose however, was certainly broken.

“Oh, folks, there it is, the knock that pulls Denbrough Double out of the game.” Richie said with a sigh.

“We’re being told by the medic team that he is okay, but will almost definitely retain a concussion and a broken nose.” Stan informed the crowd as the medic team scooped Georgie off of the field. The game had been paused by a referee, and the Quaffle was held in said referee’s hand in the center of the field as they waited for the all clear.

“It appears Slytherin is calling in their backup Seeker to finish out the game, though in this commentators opinion the effort is futile-”

“-Coming onto the pitch now is second Slytherin Seeker Henry Bowers, seventh year and previous point player for the position his six and fifth years-”

“-Just as equally bird-brained as Belchy up there, and immensely outperformed by our little Denbrough double, again, in this commentator’s opinion-”

“-and while  _ this _ commentator tends to hold different opinions from yours, I do have to agree with that notion-”

“ _ Boys _ .”

“Sorry professor, just noting the obvious, as much as my Slytherin pride makes me want to root for our boys- and lady, sorry Lucy, we see you- it’s highly unlikely our team can pull through a win with our best Seeker down for the count.” Richie finished pointedly, ignoring Henry’s look of utter poison as the players took position for the game reset.

“The score, again, still zero to forty, Gryffindor, and with the reset, it’s anyone’s game.” Stan said calmly. “The Snitch has yet to show itself, and while some Beaters,” a pointed look at Belch, only really noticed by Eddie and Mike in the crowd, “have been quite literally dropping the ball, we’ve still yet to be over the hump with this game.”

The referee placed their whistle in their mouth, holding the Quaffle out in preparation, before tossing it in the air.

“The ball is up-” Stan and Richie said in unison.

A swift dive from Bill-

“And Slytherin takes possession as the larger and much cuter Denbrough shoots through the crowd, Bludgers and Beaters alike on his heels!” Richie cheered as his friend gave a small, triumphant smile.

“Belch and Lucy, resident Slytherin Beaters, close in on the Bludger on Bill’s heels and-”

Lucy gave the ball a significant whack, sending it in the path of the Gryffindor Chasers.

“-it’s a solid hit, disrupting Mera’s flight path and causing the Gryffindor Chasers to regroup.” Stan said, eyes trained on the game in concentration. 

“You know, Stan, I think here for a moment I’ve just got to address the elephant in the room.” Richie said, turning to his friend, wand still at his throat in the voice magnification spell.

Stan raised an eyebrow as the Slytherin Chasers set up for a shot.

“And what’s that?”

“I think we’re all just a bit shocked that someone of your caliber of professionalism would stoop so low as to use such a blatantly chiche pun.”

Stan just continued to give him a look. Ben blocked the shot again, a cheer erupting from the predominantly Gryffindor section of seats.

“Dropped the ball? Really?”

“Like you could do better, Tozier.”

“But that’s exactly the point Staniel, I’m the one with the terrible puns up here, we’re all expecting so much more from you!” This earned a laugh from the audience, who were too distracted to notice the Gryffindor Seeker take a sudden nose-dive.

“Rich-” Stan stopped mid-comeback when he saw the third year girl zooming beneath her opponents. “Folks, we have a development.” He began, leaning over his seat to squint down at the other end of the field. “Gryffindor Seeker Sara has spotted the Snitch and is in pursuit!” The crowd began to cheer her on, chanted cries of “GRY-FFIN-DOR” echoing through the stadium. 

“She’s weaving through the dangling feet of her teammates, some excellent flying here folks, oh but here comes Bowers, hot on her tail and _ not _ when rated on the hot-or-not scale-”

“Henry is right behind her, but above are Slytherin Beaters Lucy and Belch, squaring up to fire shots in her path-”

“Denbrough comes from behind, pulling the Quaffle away from Gryffindor, but he’s gotta go head to head with the Seekers who are coming right at him-”

“Belch gets a Bludger and range and sends it down at the Seekers-”

“THE GRYFFINDOR SEEKER PULLS THROUGH, AN AMAZING MANEUVER AS SHE SLIDES BETWEEN DENBROUGH, BOWERS, AND THE BLUDGER, SHE’S RIGHT ON THE EDGE OF THE FIELD-”

“BILL AND HENRY COLLIDE, THE BLUDGER FROM HUGGINS COLLIDING WITH THEM AS WELL, THEY’RE BOTH DOWN-”

“AND GRYFFINDOR HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, IT’S IN HER HANDS FOLKS, GRYFFINDOR HAS WON THE MATCH!” Richie is yelling, Stan still yelling, the crowds all together yelling, as the rest of the players slowly descend and dismount their brooms. 

“It’s official,” Stan begins, voice lowered from a yell, as the refs gesture up at him. “The catch is good, Gryffindor wins one hundred ninety to zero-”

“Better luck next time, boys, you’re really damaging the Slytherin reputation!” Richie jokes, watching Bill carefully as he extracts himself from the tangled mess of limbs he and Henry had landed in. The minute both boys are up, Henry has Bill’s robes fisted in his hands and is yelling inaudibly in his face. A referee begins jogging over to separate them as their teammates watch, Belch grinning despite his very real fear that he’s going to be the next target of Henry’s ire. “It appears we have a bit of a fight breaking out down here between our beautiful Billiam and one exceptionally smelly Bowers-” Richie is cut off by his own shout of surprise as Henry suddenly throws a punch, knocking Bill temporarily askew. The refs are growing closer, but were still far across the field and trying to close the distance. “Oh, a solid knock from Bowers, will Denbrough retaliate or take it like a-”

“KICK HIS ASS, BILL!” Stan suddenly yells, equally suddenly forgetting he is still very much broadcasting his voice to the whole school.

Richie turns and gives him an incredulous (and impressed) look.

Stan turns red.

No one in the crowd, or the box for that matter, sees, because just before the referees reach the boys, Bill returns the punch, a cheer shooting up from the crowd, Eddie, Mike, and Bev repeated Stan’s call and chanting “KICK HIS ASS, BILL!!!” repeatedly before being stopped by a nearby professor.

“Well, there you have it everyone, another day, another Denbrough with a bloody nose. That’s two for two, and zero on the scoreboard to show for it.” Richie said with a laugh, trying to hide his disappointment and worry as he started his recap.

“Stats are still being calculated on all players, but as of today according to my personal calculations, this marks Ben Hanscom’s fifth consecutive game this year with no goals getting past him! So don’t feel too bad for yourselves Slytherin, he’s done this to both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as well.”

“And according to my personal calculations, this is the latest out of, oh I don’t know, every game Belch Huggins has played where he has been the reason for at least two broken faces, but those numbers are unofficial-”

“Thank you, thank you, Mr. Tozier and Mr. Uris.” A sudden booming voice interrupted them; their headmaster. “Thus marks the end of our Gryffindor versus Slytherin game, our Gryffindor team walking away victorious. Please be sure to congratulate your fellow students on their excellent gameplay as you return to your dormitories for the evening. Goodnight, everyone.” 

Richie and Stan ended their voice magnification charms, turning away from the field with a sigh. Their professor who had been monitoring them gave them both a look of frustration, which turned quickly to exasperation as they both gave him a shrug. Despite the staff’s constant complaints about Richie and Stan’s (most Richie’s) language during commentations, they hadn’t been replaced in the two years they’d been doing it. The exasperation was mostly for show.

“You want to go check on Bill now or wait till we get the group?” Richie said quietly to Stan after their teacher had left the box.

“Let’s get everyone, they’re probably waiting out by the team quarters for Ben.” Stan sighed, letting out a shaky breath. He always did a great job of containing it when he needed to commentate, but his worry for Bill every time he mounted a broom was clear on his face. At least, it always was to Richie. No one read Stan better than Richie. And of course, the opposite was true as well.

“You know he’s okay.” Richie said plainly. “Bill’s taken plenty of hits before, he’ll walk it off.”

“That’s not what I’m so worried about.” Stan said cryptically. Richie looked at him in confusion. “Did you not see how pissed Bowers looked?” Stan continued. “This won’t be the last Bill hears of this, or Georgie, or you for that matter.”

“Me?” Richie asked, gesturing at himself with his wand, which was still in his hand. “What’d I do?”

“Uh, I don’t know, insult him repeatedly in front of the entire school.” Stan spat. “Christ Richie, think about things before you say them.”

“Oh Staniel, you know I’m not capable of that.” Richie waved him off. “Oh, and also, I don’t remember a certain someone stopping me-”

“Okay, firstly, just because no one stops you doesn’t mean you’re okay to do it, and second of all, just because something is true doesn’t mean you should say it.”

Richie gave him a look.

“What?”

Nothing.

“Okay, so I thought you were actually being funny today.”

Richie raised his eyebrows.

“Hey, I hate the fucking guy too! I think it’s great to degrade him in front of everyone! But that doesn’t make it a smart idea!”

“Whatever Staniel, you have fun up on that high horse.” 

Stan huffed as they stood, gathering their things.

“Whatever asshole, if he comes pounding on my door about what you said today, I’m throwing you under the bus.”

“Oh, come on Stanley, you know you’d never betray your dearest old pal.” Richie smirked as he pulled Stan into a hug that was less of a hug and more of a headlock, in nature.

“... You may be right, but I don’t have to admit it.”

Richie smiled and ruffled Stanley’s hair with his fist.

“Or like it. Get off me, asshole.”

“As you wish.”


End file.
